


Midgardians Are Easy

by Orlando23



Series: Killing Two Birds With One Word [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy's inner monologue is really fun to write, F/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-The Whole Thanos War Thing Really, Post-Thor: The Dark World, but only if you're reading as it's updated, some straight up Loki oogling to start off I think, then things might get interesting, torturously slow build (tag added at the suggestion of a reader), yup - things just got interesting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlando23/pseuds/Orlando23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Darcy's conversation with Natasha, she finds it hard to not notice everything about Loki. This seems to lead down a very slippery slope and to the mouth of a canyon. From here she's not sure whether she wants to run in completely the opposite direction, or base-jump into it.</p><p>Oh, who is she kidding? Give her a parachute and watch her fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The True Blame Lies With...

This was all Natasha’s fault.

Darcy had tried to forget about it - she really had! - but she had not been entirely successful. At all. In fact, she had been the opposite of successful. This was like, invading Russia in winter successful.

She had never really given Loki’s presence around the place that much thought. Sure, he was attractive, but when you had the likes of Thor and Captain America walking around, ‘pretty’ became fairly commonplace, and they were certainly better company.

But since that conversation, she had _noticed_ him.

The first time she saw him was, predictably, the very next day after her conversation with Natasha. Loki had been staying at Avengers Tower for the better part of a week. He was here to speak with Thor and the newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D. regarding Asgard and Earth’s relationship post Thanos. Loki was officially here as representative to the King of Asgard, and as such had been offered some of the finest accommodations in New York. However, for reasons completely beyond her, he had chosen to stay in admittedly one of the more spacious rooms with the Avengers while negotiations continued.

So it was something of a contrast to walk into that same kitchen the next morning and to be greeted to the sight of Loki, Norse God of Mischief and Lies, Prince of Asgard, former would-be-conquerer of the Earth, and - technically - one of the Heroes of the Universe, sitting behind a cup of tea, a honey pastry in one hand, and reading something on one of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s screens. As she took in this visual, her steps faltered and flashes of Natasha’s words bombarded her brain.

_Taut muscles, fluid movements, grounded, predator, long fingered panther-man, how far apart are his legs? … Fuck. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Crap._

Why was she only just noticing how lickable his neck was? How his Adam’s apple bobbed so deliciously when he swallowed? Why did he have to suck the honey off his finger right at this particular second? Why was her mouth suddenly as dry as a prohibition fight in Vermont? _Fuuuuuuck._ _That was not good._

Wait. And now, she couldn’t even leave! How weird would it be to come into a room, stare at its only occupant like they were the cherry on top of a particularly large, sexy sundae, only to turn tail and scurry back out of said room? Pretty fucking weird.

Loki, for his part, didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at her abrupt entrance or equally abrupt halt.

 _Just pretend he’s not there. The super sexy vanilla sundae panther-man is not in the room, and you’re not attracted to him, and definitely did_ not _check out his crotch, and you are not having lusty thoughts about a man who tried to enslave humanity. And then save Jane. And Thor. And the Earth and Universe and stuff. Whatever. Nothing really important._

She forced herself to walk into the kitchen, and resolutely decided she was not going to acknowledge his existence. She mentally changed the menu from toast - that would take a few minutes to cook - to cereal. Yes. That would take almost no time at all. She maintained calm movements, and opened the pantry to retrieve some Froot Loops or something, frustratingly finding the cereal on a shelf a little higher than was accessible. Tony Stark must not eat cereal a lot. Goodness knows he wouldn’t be able to reach the boxes. She had to stop herself snickering at the mental image of Pepper retrieving them for him.

Conscious of the Asgardian behind her, she decided not to reach for them, as she would probably make an ass of herself jumping up to try and get one down. Fruit it was, then.

She closed the pantry and turned back to the kitchen island where Loki sat, reading and eating. Funnily enough, he was sitting in almost the exact position that Natasha had been last night. He still appeared to have not noticed she was even in the room. Good. She sidled up to the fruit bowl on the counter and retrieved an orange, quickly flicking her eyes over the Norse god on the other side of the partition to make sure he was occupied.

Whilst his eyes were resolutely trained on the floating screen in front of him, he did, however, choose that moment to lick a small piece of pastry flake from his bottom lip.

Natasha’s voice echoed through her mind. ‘ _Are you coming up with a cunning plan to come from cunnilingus with Loki_?’ _Oh, do not think about that. Seriously. Do not picture that. Please. Silvertongue with the- fuck._ Darcy silently thanked her knees for staying locked. _Good work, ladies. Now. Get me out of here._

She went to make a move out the door, but Loki’s soft voice cut swiftly through the silence.

“I presume you are aware that the piece of fruit you hold is artificial?”

Darcy froze in her tracks, her back to Loki, so despairingly close to the sanctuary of the doorframe. She surreptitiously gave the orange a squeeze. _Well, shit._

She turned towards him, her best bullshitting face on. “Oh yeah, Jane asked me to get it for her.” She tossed it up slightly and caught it again. “Something about an experiment or whatever.”

Loki stared at her long and hard, the corners of his lips curving upwards, eyes glittering. It was ridiculous. He knew it was ridiculous. They both knew it was ridiculous.

“Oh, of course. Well in that case, please send my wishes to Doctor Foster that her _experiment_ is productive, and your trip here was not at all wasted. I believe there are some rather generously sized bananas available too should she require a different kind of… artificial refreshment.”

“Um. Oooo-kay.” _There goes being able to eat bananas any time soon._ “See ya, Lokes.”

She turned on her heel and walked to the door, desperately keeping a good grip on the orange. The last thing she wanted was to drop the damn thing. Stupid daydreams turning her into a moron. Damn Natasha. Dumbass _oranges_.

Darcy later found herself inexplicably incapable of resisting the lure of the choc-banana muffin that was the special of the day as she was grabbing her breakfast to go.

 _No. Wrong, wrong, wrong_. She was blaming entirely the wrong things for this predicament. It wasn’t her daydreaming, it wasn’t Natasha, and it wasn’t even the damn fake-ass oranges…

It was fucking Loki himself.

 This was entirely _his_ fault.


	2. She should have had her camera...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thor are in an aesthetically pleasing situation, and Darcy gets to enjoy the view.

The next time she saw Loki she was genuinely looking for something to help Jane. That something just happened to be in the form of Jane’s smoking hot god of a boyfriend, who, J.A.R.V.I.S. helpfully informed her, was currently in Tony Stark’s weapons training room.

With Loki. Fighting. Both of them sweaty and half-naked.

J.A.R.V.I.S. had failed to mention that part.

 _Wow_. That was, really very, very hot. She should wait until they’d finished. They probably shouldn’t be interrupted during brother-bonding time. _Yuuuup_. Her, waiting and watching until they’d finished was really for their own good, and most likely the good of the universe.

She tried to keep her eyes on Thor, because whilst she could certainly appreciate the complexity of the muscles on show, she wasn’t likely to want to do something super embarrassing with Thor because of Jane. Look, but don’t overtly touch, was not difficult. Sure, a poke in the chest, or a punch in the arm, a little sportsmanly butt-slap every now and then may occur, but she was not likely to want to lick him up the legs anytime soon.

On the other brother- uh, hand…

It should be illegal. Really. To look like that. Surely the Geneva Convention would consider this some sort of strange and unusual torture that no one should have to be subjected to. Look, but don’t overtly touch, was definitely difficult these days.

She gazed - hopefully not too obviously - at the expanse of skin that stretched deliciously just above the waistband of Loki’s low-slung trousers. _Those damn v indentations_. Her mind made a sound like Homer Simpson thinking of doughnuts, which was rather appropriate given she was imagining covering him in icing and taking a bite. In fact, the icing wasn’t really a requirement. She'd take a virgin - ha! - Loki whole. Natasha was right, he _was_ cut. Thor had always been a bit too muscled for her personal taste in men, but Loki seemed to be just the right amount of line and curve. His arms were lean, but strong, his torso was whipcord tight and perfectly defined.

He was so… graceful. And quick. He dodged Thor’s impressive arms as fluidly as water, ending up behind him and then striking out to dislodge Thor’s stance. The elder brother used the backwards stumble to his advantage however, and managed to grab Loki’s torso on the way down to the floor - presumably magic and Mew-Mew were not allowed in this particular match if Loki hadn’t magicked himself away. They ended up a tangle of limbs before manoeuvring about, and then both ending up holding each other in pinning moves.

After a lot of grunting from both gods, somehow Loki managed to throw his leg across Thor’s shoulder, his knee pressing into the blond god’s throat, which did nothing to help the watering of her mouth or the fluttering in her stomach, and everything to help her check out his, _oh fantastic_ , totally toned, leather-clad ass. _Well, obviously_.

“Yield, Thor!” Loki said between panting breaths.

“Yield? Why would I yield when I clearly have you in the palm of my hand?” He must have squeezed Loki about the ribs, because Loki’s body suddenly made a jumping movement and he let out almost a yelp of a laugh.

Who knew gods were ticklish?

From the looks of the twist of limb and torso currently coiled tightly on the floor, Darcy didn’t really think either of them was the winner of this particular contest, but hey, what did she really know about Asgardian wrestling? Just so long as they kept it up and she could watch from a relatively safe distance, she was very happy with the current… view.

“You have my leg pressing into your windpipe, brother, that requires a yield!”

This comment had Thor grinning despite the strain that was evident on his face. “Only because you used that familial title without the slightest hint of sarcasm, brother!” He relaxed his iron grip on Loki before adding, “I yield!”

“As right you should!” Loki swung his leg back around and sat up on the floor, a true smile emerging on his face. Darcy tried not to stare at his abdominal muscles as they flexed and relaxed with his heavy breathing. She failed. Who knew failure could be so rewarding? Loki’s eyes remained trained on Thor’s prone form, but he must have sensed her presence - maybe he knew about it all along - for he kept smiling and said, “It seems we have a spectator, Thor.”

Thor remained lying on the floor, but his gaze turned to her, upside down. “Darcy! To what do we owe your delightful patronage?”

Loki’s head finally turned to her. _Don’t look at him_.

“Oh, you know. Give me some sweaty, half-naked men grabbing at each other on the floor, and just try to stop me patronising. It’s practically a hobby.” It was her turn to watch Thor’s abs as they fluttered with laughter. _Oh yeah. Nice_. _There_ was definitely a perk to being funny. “No, but, uh, I came to get you to help Jane. She’s spent at least the last twenty hours working on Science Things and you need to go down and drag her away for a bit. I think she’s in need of some divine intervention.”

“A worthy quest!” Thor boomed joyfully. He jumped - like, literally - to his feet and grabbed a towel from a duffle-bag, which he then slung over his shoulder. He headed towards Darcy near the door, mopping at his sweat-drenched face. He and Loki must have been at this for some time. _File_ that _thought away for Taco Time._

“I shall make myself presentable and go to her. Thank you, Darcy.” He gave her a high-wattage smile as he walked out of the room, throwing a, “Until next time, Loki!” over his shoulder.

Which left her again, alone with the other brother. Despite herself, Darcy had to at least take a last look. He was still on the floor, though no longer breathing heavily. One leg extended, the other knee raised with his arm resting lightly atop it, he looked at her with knowing eyes. That was her cue to leave.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked softly, and once again she found herself turning back towards him when she was so close to the damn door!

“It was… entertaining. Very nice of Thor to let you win.” _Probably shouldn’t have added that last part._

“ _Let_ me win?” he repeated in a low voice.

Oh, she was so wrong! The look on his face was very satisfying. Totally worth it.

“Yeah, but don’t feel bad about it, Thor’s a pretty tough cookie.” Loki looked like he didn’t know whether to shake it off or rage against the machine. _Oh, throw him a bone, Darcy_. She smirked, to let him know she was joking. Sometimes you have to give men a bit of a hand.

He seemed to catch on, and tilted his head to consider her. “You have a quick tongue, Ms. Lewis.”

She raised a hand to her chest and gasped in mock-surprise. “That sounded strangely like a compliment, Lokes.” She fanned her hand near her face, adopted a fake southern accent, and pretended to swoon. “In fact, I feel an onset of the vapours. Your silver tongue is mighty powerful!” Darcy tried not to laugh… okay that was a straight-up lie. She laughed at her own joke, like sensible, intelligent people do.

Loki got to his feet and conjured a towel for himself out of midair. He threw it across the back of his neck, and held on to both ends as he stalked towards her. She was strangely mesmerised by his bare feet. _Holy shit they were long. Toes like he could paint with them._

 _Gulp_. _Fucking_ painter _panther man._

Darcy stood a little straighter. He stopped in front of her, and she refused to let her eyes wander over his lean body. _Damn it._ He looked like he had stopped at the end of a catwalk in a fashion show specifically designed for women to ogle at men. She watched a bead of sweat slip over his pectoral muscle.

“Do not get too excited at the observation. I, more than most, know of the trouble a quick tongue can find you in. It certainly can be a ‘mighty powerful’ weapon, or it can lead to your very own petite mort.”

How did he manage to make that sound like a triple entendre? Was there such a thing? Wait, wasn’t that the French word for orgasm? Little death? _Uhhh_ …

He must have read the look on her face perfectly. “Come now, Ms. Lewis. You know that I have literally had more than one ‘little death’ in my own lifetime. You must not take things so… figuratively.”

Loki’s exiting smile was in fact, not a smile, but a smirk. Darcy turned her head to follow him out of the room.

“And I _know_ that orange was real when I picked it up, you _literal_ ASS!” she managed to yell after him.

His fading snickering was not appreciated.

She went and kicked a punching bag.

_Fucking Loki._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We really need a scene like this in the Marvel movies. Yup. With Hiddles and Hemsworth grabbing each other half-naked. Hell, go full naked, I somehow doubt I'd mind!
> 
> Hope you like the latest chapters! Your reviews are what made me update way faster than I intended! LOL. So keep it up, and I'll try and keep cranking it out :)


	3. Was Jane now Piglet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy finds out exactly how tricky Loki's tongue can be...

The day things took an unexpected turn was two days after the wrestling match. Darcy had just finished her data entry for the day - at eleven at night, that’s just how it went down sometimes - and she decided to catch up on whatever was on TV at eleven o’clock at night.

It turned out to be a bad romantic movie that Darcy had since forgotten the name of entirely. It seemed fairly typical. Girl meets boy. Girl goes out with boy. Boy is a complete ass. Girl ends up apologising for being domineering because _really_ it was all her fault, and naturally, all is forgiven. That kind of bad romantic movie.

She was about twenty minutes into said film, the room sparsely lit at this time of night, in the lounge room dedicated to the particular floor of the building she was inhabiting, when she felt a presence behind her. She slowly turned her head around and jumped when Loki’s figure came into view.

“Jesus, Lokes, what the hell?”

“What are you watching?” he replied, ignoring her admittedly half rhetorical question.

Seriously?

Darcy shrugged and turned back to the TV. “I don’t know. It’s pretty lame, whatever it is.” She could still see his harshly lit features in her peripheral vision. _Damn_ his cheekbones were defined.

He turned to her. “Then why are you watching it?”

“Because it’s on, and I’m too wired on super-strength coffee to go to sleep right now.”

Loki continued to look at her for a moment, then planted himself on the other couch in the room. Darcy kept her eyes trained on the picture in front of her.

After a while, Darcy found herself relaxing. She eased back into the couch, and as he said nothing, and made no discernible noise really, she all but forgot Loki was even there.

For about the next ten minutes.

That was when the sex scene came on, and she was suddenly _hyper_ -alert to Loki’s presence.

This was so much worse than watching this stuff with your parents.

 _Do_ not _react, Lewis_ , she reminded her body, and yet paradoxically, found herself incredibly aware of her own limbs. Was she always sitting this stiffly? Why was she leaning on her fist like that? It was instantly uncomfortable, and yet her body had turned to lead. She literally could not move.

The woman on screen gave a loud moan, seemingly approaching her climax from ten seconds of foreplay and subsequent fucking.

 _Why did he have to be here? Why now?_ Darcy was by no means religious - it kind of makes you a little disappointed in deities when you’ve seen one eating Pop-Tarts whole - but really, who did she have to pray to, to make him leave?

The obvious answer was Loki himself, but in no way did he need that kind of validation. That was one of the reasons she refused to address him by his proper name… a deliberate distancing of him from godly titles. If he were just ‘Lokes’ to her, he was almost in buddy-cop-movie-territory. About as far from god-like status as you could get.

This was so uncomfortable. She was glad for the first time that her immediate onset locked-in syndrome meant she was able to control herself and keep her eyes glued to the screen, but she was so _conscious_ of his presence.

Her jaw clenched in irritation as both people on screen gave exaggerated screams and collapsed on top of each other, which just added to the ridiculousness of the situation. She snorted. _Right_. _Because it’s that easy._

“You seem vexed, Ms. Lewis.”

_GO AWAY._

“Do I?” she replied, hopefully not as forcefully as the voice screaming in her head for him to shut-up.

“Indeed. I wonder what it is that has you so irritated.”

_Your face._

“Nothing.” _Do_ not _engage him in this topic._

“Ms. Lewis…” he trailed off in a gentle warning voice. She could hear the, ‘Do not lie to me!’ Voldemorty undertone in the use of her name.

_Screw it. Just tell him. It’s not like anything is going to happen. Loki is his annoying, nosey self, and he’ll try to embarrass you, and you’ll end up leaving and he’ll be gone in a few weeks. Get it over with._

She gave a sigh before starting her rant. “It’s the media’s portrayal of sex. It’s completely unrealistic, and sets up standards to which no normal people can possibly hope to reach. They have her orgasming after two seconds of him touching her, and he’s not even touching her _well_! No wonder men suck at it. They think it’s just shove it in and out, do the hokey pokey and then turn themselves about! Neither of the characters make any attempt at clitoral stimulation, so shame on _her_ too, and then all of a sudden she’s convulsing like Thor when I tasered him! It’s just annoying, and stupid, and shut-up.”

That had kind of got away from here a bit there…

She did _not_ look at him, and for a moment it seemed she had shocked him into silence.

In retrospect, the thought _was_ a bit optimistic.

“Oh, Ms. Lewis, I disagree wholeheartedly. Midgardians are easy,” he replied smoothly.

This was exactly what she did not need after the last few days of sexual frustration.

“You are all so delightfully… _responsive_ ,” Loki continued. Darcy swore she could hear his tongue curl around the word. Her mind jumped to an illusion of a smoke-enveloped Loki licking honey from his fingers. This was a trap. She had definitely heard the phrase ‘honey trap’ before. Her brain unhelpfully supplied that what with the honey it sounded like a trap set for Winnie the Pooh, but that seemed to be of little consequence.

The smokiness of his timbre rolled through her, and her mind was engulfed.

“Not me,” Darcy replied defiantly. _Fuck him_. He was _not_ the King of this world, despite his best efforts. He could go stick his dick in a cog so far as she was concerned. _Do not think about that image too much_.

“No?” Loki’s eyebrow swept up into an elegant arch; the hint of a smirk threatening to appear on his lips.

“Nope.”

Loki regarded her evenly for a moment. He leant forward slightly, the leather of his trousers creaking softly, and his smirk went from threatening to be, to being just threatening.

“You think it wise to incite a wager with me, mortal?” his voice slick, low and dangerous.

 _Wager_? Darcy’s brain echoed uncooperatively. “Wager?” her tongue repeated just as uncooperatively, to her immediate annoyance. It was one thing for her brain to be unhelpful, but her tongue was usually her MVP.

A short, sharp laugh rolled in the back of Loki’s throat, and his eyes glittered mischievously. “You tell me unlike all other Midgardians,” he gestured at the screen, where the couple was basking in the _super amazingness_ of the sex, “you are not so easily… swayed, and expect me to take it as anything _other_ than a challenge?”

_I thought we had agreed not to go down this path, Darcy. And yet SHOCK! Here we are, once again. Right in the middle of whatever the fuck ‘it’ happens to be. Just make like mercury at room temperature and liquefy immediately. That would be the thing to do right now. Think metallic thoughts and puddle._

“I…” was all she managed to get out.

Nailed it.

Loki leant back into the couch, and looked appraisingly at Darcy, whose mouth had actually managed to close after really getting her point across there, which she considered a legitimate win.

“One hand.”

_… what._

“That is all it would take. No other contact. No magic.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Darcy’s mouth had shot off before she had time to really consider the consequences.

Fortunately, Loki seemed to find this outburst amusing, a genuine grin of apparent pleasure formed on his lips, and displayed his totally lickable teeth.

Darcy took this grin as a sign he was not in fact about to defenestrate her, and ploughed on. “I know you’re meant to be good, but come _on_. There’s unusually talented, and then there’s just actually physically impossible! I need _way_ more than that.”

It was about that time Darcy realised the trap had just snapped shut on Winnie the Pooh, and she had just been caught with her paw thrust right up in the bee hive. She knew what his response was going to be before he even opened his mouth.

“Try me,” his deep voice rumbled low in his chest.

This was legitimately not a good idea. At all. In any way, shape or form. Ever. In any universe. That has ever existed. Or will exist. Because fuck linear time.

And yet… she was torn. Torn between taking his ego down several floors and smashing it into the ground like a sexually frustrated Hulk. Wait, was that regular Hulk? _OH SNAP, DARCY. On the topic of bad ideas; never mention_ that _to Dr. Banner._

And then there was the tantalising, however completely ridiculous, ludicrous notion that he might, somehow, Captain America coming out as a Nazi-likely, snowball’s chance in Hell, Muspelheim - whatever - something fucking hot… succeed?

Darcy took him in. He still looked utterly at ease, long legs spread obscenely wide, fingers wrapped around the bottom of his thighs.

Natasha’s words floated unbidden into her mind, and seemed to coil around the fingers currently occupied just above his knee. And unfortunately these were not words of danger, or hesitation but rather the words of her departure… “ _Why not_?”

Darcy’s eyes trailed up his body to meet his gaze, and wasn’t that just a big mistake, because after seeing the insufferably smug look on his face, she now had her answer.

“Why not? Seems your wagers haven’t gone entirely your way in the past. Had your lips sewn shut recently?” she managed to respond in a far more confident voice than she had believed herself capable at that particular moment. She almost sounded nonchalant! Score.

Oh, and there was the Disney-level Maleficent-grade smile. _Huh. Well done, Walt. Got that one down._

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?”

Darcy took a moment to ponder this, pursing her lips in thought. She was the one getting off if he somehow managed to win the bet… and there would be a certain amount of satisfaction at least if he did the obvious and lost. There was really no downside for her. Time to see how confident he really was.

“If I win, you will be my personal Disney genie.”

Loki tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. Clearly the Universal Translator didn’t come with Aladdin references.

“It means,” Darcy continued, “that if you can’t… accomplish your task, you have to grant me three magical wishes. Within reason, of course. I don’t expect you to rewind time or anything. I know you’re not Superman. Stuff you can actually do.” She wasn’t entirely sure what the extent of his powers actually were, but she’d seen him do a fair few impressive things that could come in handy. She would have to really use them wisely though - none of this wishing him free nonsense. _I wonder if I could convince him that the ixnay on the wishing for more wishes was not really a thing…_

“That sounds acceptable. And when I win?”

 _He_ really _thinks he’s going to win._ “So confident, Boasty McBoasterson?”

Loki let out a light laugh. “Boasty, son of son of Boaster?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I hear the superiority complex spans multiple generations.” She hurried on so he wouldn’t be able to add comment to that particular statement. The parentage issue was still a bit of a tender subject. “ _If_ you win, well… what could you possibly want from a lowly mortal such as myself? I could dye Thor’s hair pink or something?” She grinned at the thought. _You know, with the right pastel pink, he’d look rather fetching. With a beard to match too… she just wouldn’t tell Loki he’d end up looking rather dashing._

But to her disappointment Loki just smiled and waved her suggestion away. “Nay, I can do that. _Have_ done that, actually, in a particularly nasty shade of orange.” He rested his hand back on his lower thigh, before dragging them both up his legs slightly, thumbs now resting a hand span above his knee. He looked away from her, possibly in thought, but Darcy had the distinct impression he already knew exactly what he wanted and was just trying to take a moment to let her stew.

He made a small humming sound. “Continuing along our path of enlightening your _truly_ dull little world,” he afforded her an indulging, condescending smile that made Darcy want to punch his pretty face, “ _when_ I win, allow me to show you what I can do with just the application of my mouth.” Okay, _that_ smile made her want to do something else entirely to his face. Well, maybe not entirely… hitting him along with other stuff too. _Tongue. Tongue. Tongue. Oh God yes. No. What. Crap._ But he wasn’t finished. “I think utterly ruining you for all human men should do just nicely. Especially as they appear to not be up to your standards.”

Oh, it was _so on_ like Donkey Kong. She was going to knock him down a staircase or two, forget the damn pegs.

“All right. When and where?”

He held up a hand and gestured with those fingers for her to move over to him. “Come.” It was clearly not a request.

Orders had always rankled Darcy. She was never much for the official command structure of most work or school environments. So while it was not necessarily _unusual_ to feel the sudden rush of snark that filled her brain, she was rather surprised her tongue had got back on her side after its previous disappointing play.

“Hey now, buddy. I know you think you’re good, but it’s going to take way more than just ordering me to come.”

Loki grinned mischievously. “We shall see. Now come…”

_Wait, what… now? Here? Oh…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, ladies and gents, I am happy to present you with the following warning:
> 
>  
> 
> We are about to jump off a cliff :D I actually have this whole scene written and it's still got about 5000 words to go, so please let me know if you'd like to read it, and what you thought of this instalment ;) 


	4. Soy Un Perdedor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy realises she's going to lose...

How had she managed to forget, in all this discussion and back and forth, that he would actually have to touch her? That seemed like something she should have thought about. Admittedly she _had_ thought about what it might be like to have Loki’s elegant hands on her, and more, but that had been late at night, in the privacy of her own room, with Mr. Pointy, and was not really something she had considered as a serious, literal, possibility.

Her limbs still felt like lead, but as she looked back into his eyes, she felt herself drawn up and out of the chair, like some magnetic force was pulling her towards him. He had said he wasn’t going to use magic, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

She held his gaze as she walked over to his couch. Was this actually going to happen? The devilish glint in his eyes said most definitely.

Darcy found herself coming to a stop a step out from his sprawled figure. Now what?

Loki smiled at her and adjusted his position on the couch. He manoeuvred his wide-spread legs so they were closer together at the knees, sat up a little straighter so he was no longer slouching, and spread his arms wide along the back of the sofa.

He gestured with his hand to his lap. “Have a seat, Ms. Lewis.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and then realised he was serious. “You want me to straddle you?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Darcy assessed the situation in front of her. The couch was quite low to the ground, and as a consequence, Loki’s ridiculously long, well-toned thighs were angled up towards her. Either he would have to move his feet forward to lower his knees, or she would really have to climb over them to sit down.

From the expectant expression on Loki’s face, Darcy made the call that Mohammad was going to have to scale the mountain… she just wasn’t sure where her first handhold was going to be. If she put her hand on the back of the couch next to his head, he was going to end up with a face-full of breasts, which he _totally_ did not deserve right now.

While she pondered the best form of attack to this current dilemma, Loki seemed to have decided she was dithering, because he extended his hand to her, palm up, in an offer of help. Darcy instantly felt a wave of gratitude toward him for the gesture. She didn’t want him to know she was more than a little nervous, but she figured nerves were an expected reaction, regardless of whether or not Norse gods famous for trickery were involved.

She extended her own palm towards his gingerly. When her skin finally connected with his, her hand was enveloped in his large, pale, slightly cool grasp. There was no give in his arm as she pressed some of her weight onto it in order to raise up her right knee, which she slowly lowered to snugly fit next to his left hip.

Darcy was alarmed by how much the couch sank beneath her. She let out a slight, “Oh,” of surprise as the slope of his legs meant she was instantly pulled flush against his upper thighs and crotch, her breasts coming disturbingly close to his face from the momentum despite her best efforts. The situation just got super intimate all of a sudden.

She pulled her left knee up to mirror the other’s position, and took a moment to lean back slightly, now that she wasn’t tipping over, and took at look at Loki. If at all possible he was looking even more smug, a stupid grin on his stupid face.

Darcy took a moment to move around on him slightly under the pretence of getting more comfortable. She saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but there was no other discernible reaction in his expression. Further down, however…

_Hello, Christmas…_

If _that’s_ what was lurking in the depths of the dark, call her nocturnal forever more.

Except no! He was not meant to win!

She ignored the almost overwhelming scent of him, leather, clean and most assuredly male, and instead focused on not freaking out when he placed her currently captured hand on top of his leather clad shoulder. He then carefully entwined his long fingers in her free hand and brought it up to match, before lowering his own palms down to rest atop her knees.

Loki waited a moment and then slowly moved his hands up the inside of her thighs, the pressure exquisite and torturous through her thin trousers. She was about to protest that he said he was meant to only use _one_ hand in this wager, when he used his grip to push her slightly further down his legs, disappointingly away from where she could tease him. It was then she realised he wasn’t even finished positioning her. The match hadn’t actually started yet; this was just the pre-game stretch.

She found out how literal that realisation was, as once he had her resting half-way down his thighs, he suddenly splayed his legs once more, tipping Darcy’s torso forward again. She clung desperately to his shoulders as her knees were suddenly spread wide. She looked down and found herself immobile as she was basically pinned by the sheer expanse of his long legs.

Her arms were now straight as her fingers still dug into the leather, and she was glad of the distance as she gathered her courage to look at him once more.

“Ready?” he said in a low voice once her eyes were trained on him.

Darcy swallowed. Talk about finding yourself in a precarious position.

“As I’ll ever be,” she managed to reply in what at least felt like a confident voice.

He afforded her a smile before asking, “If I were to remove my hands, would you be able to hold this position?”

_Probably not._

“Yes,” she replied and raised her chin slightly in defiance.

“Very well. Keep your hands on my shoulders.”

Loki slowly removed his hands from her thighs, and she found herself both relieved and disappointed. He rested his left hand just above her knee and brought his right up towards her face. Darcy managed to hold her distance, locking her elbows and bracing against Loki in order to stay in position, her spine straight. His hand descended on her jaw line, and softly ran his thumb from her chin to up towards her plump, bottom lip.

Darcy felt herself open to him slightly - it was clearly an automatic reaction - and the pad of his digit skimmed her bottom lip. His touch was light, and she found herself wishing for more. But Loki’s pressure was consistent and teasing as he continued to trace her lips, and then shifted to cradle the side of her head. His fingers continued on and threaded through her dark hair, where he gave her head a small pull and brought Darcy’s face closer to his.

Her locked arms relaxed at the gentle suggestion, and her forearms came down to rest against his, _oh gawwwwwd, solid and firm_ , pectoral muscles as she leaned towards him. She found her lips a scarce inch away from his, and was worried suddenly he was going to kiss her. Darcy went to pull back - he was _not_ allowed to use his mouth! - but found him keeping her in place. Loki made no move to kiss her, he simply held her there, and she became aware that she could feel his warm breath against her lips.

It was so erotic. The situation was somehow so incredibly hot, and technically he wasn’t even doing anything sexual. They were simply very close. Darcy found herself staring at his thin lips - he was no longer smiling - she could see a hint of his lower teeth, which she immediately wanted to lick, and obviously couldn’t. She settled for licking her own lips, and drew her gaze back up to his eyes, which were staring at her mouth, an almost hungry look about them. His eyelashes were so long, and his irises a glorious shade of grey-green in the dim light.

He had absolutely no right to be this pretty.

Loki’s eyes suddenly flicked back up to hers, and the corners crinkled as he gave her a mischievous grin. She hadn’t been aware that his hand had moved, but she suddenly felt it lightly touch the side of her neck. His thumb brushed down her throat to rest in the dip between her clavicles, and his fingers trailed off to the side, causing her to shiver. He brought his digits across her collarbone and under her loose-fitting shirt, which stretched the material slightly to the side, before he leaned in and seemingly inhaled her scent.

“Mmm…” his voice rumbled, deep in the back of his throat. “Your scent is intoxicating, Ms. Lewis.”

Darcy had suddenly lost the ability to speak. His aristocratic nose was nestled in her neck - but not touching, never touching - and it was almost torture not to surge forward and feel his lips and tongue against her flesh. The only noise she managed to make in retaliation was a small keening that sounded embarrassingly like pleading.

His touch brought fire in its wake, and Darcy suppressed a moan as his hand drifted to trace the other collarbone. The tug of her shirt felt so satisfying against the back of her neck for some reason. He hummed again at the opposite side of her neck before his hand trailed down, disappointingly _over_ her top, between her breasts and came to rest on the side of her waist.

He was deliberately teasing her. He had barely touched her and already she could feel herself desperate and devastatingly prepared for him. She despaired as she automatically, and futilely, tried to bring her legs closer together so she could feel some pressure where it was truly needed, to which he had the nerve to fucking _chuckle_.

“Uh-uh,” he tutted. “That’s my job.”

Darcy groaned in frustration. “Then fucking _do it_.”

He smiled. “This is the problem with your species, Ms. Lewis, there’s no _artistry_ to your encounters.” His fingers made small circles on her side. “You said it yourself, your men think the hokey pokey really is what it’s all about.”

The mood was shattered by his unexpectedly funny reference. Darcy laughed, quite hard. “To be fair, that’s exactly what the song says,” she replied. “It’s a problem with the system, clearly.”

His smile was open and genuine this time, and she found it difficult to not give in to the urge to cradle his face and softly kiss him. This unforeseen rush of affection startled her enough to miss his hand moving from her side to under her shirt, but her senses came rushing back as the tips of his fingers trailed up around her back and, quick as a hiccough, her bra snapped open.

Loki’s hand continued on its path upwards, pulling her top taught against her front and higher against her stomach. She wanted to pull it back down, but didn’t for fear of falling forward against him. He began to press harder into her spine, and she realised that he was massaging her. His nimble fingers played her like a piano, working out the tension that had knotted itself into place throughout both her long day, and this somewhat tense situation.

 _That_ made her groan. She couldn’t help it - it felt too good. It was so long since anyone had done this for her, she practically melted into his touch.

It was that moment that she knew he was going to win. He _was_ that good. He was teasing and considerate, knew just what to do, and the ultimate decider… she _wanted_ him to win. She had never felt this kind of want from such little provocation. How big could this payoff be?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Loki’s massaging drifted dangerously close to the fabric of her trousers. He was gauging her response to his ministrations as his fingers drifted below her waistband and massaged her tail bone, causing her hips to buck forward slightly in response. Darcy felt her face flush slightly and Loki pursed his lips together, apparently pleased by this reaction.

This time when his hand came around to her front, his touch was no longer feather light teasing, but held just the right amount of pressure. He pressed his palm to her ribcage and swept it up towards her bra, which she very soon remembered had been loosened. His thumb briefly slipped underneath it and gave her a teasing touch to the underside of her breast. Darcy’s torso moved forward of its own accord. It was a relief, but nowhere near enough. Loki moved his thumb again, this time sweeping it up to just brush against the edge of her already tightening areola, the rest of his hand cupping her breast’s weight gently.

She let out a whimper of frustration, and heard him make a noise of pleasure. At some stage her eyes had drifted shut. She suspected he was wearing a shit-eating grin.

His thumb traced along her puckered skin and she shivered with antici… pation. This was it, right? He had to touch her properly. He just had to move his thumb… right… there-

_No!_

His hand moved over to under her other breast, and this time used the back of his fingers to tease it, so she was left frustrated once again. She felt her stomach muscles contract at the tension raging inside of her. Her breath was coming out in heavy pants. His fingertips gently traced _around_ her nipple, but not touching. Darcy pushed against him to get some more friction - maybe even get him to slip a little - but his caressing remained confident and she failed to get what she wanted.

“Oh, come _on_ , Loki! Seriously,” she exclaimed, reaching her tipping point.

And then the exact opposite of what she wanted to happen, happened.

He stopped, his hand resting on her right breast, his long fingers touching her everywhere but the one place she wanted. She could have screamed with annoyance. Her eyes snapped open and she was a little taken-aback by the look on Loki’s face.

His expression was one of muted surprise. His pupils were so dilated that she could hardly see the grey-green ring surrounding them. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw loose.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He took a moment to stare at her, as though trying to figure something out. “Nothing,” he replied after a moment. “That is simply the first time you’ve used my name.”

Had she? She must have. He would not have had such a visceral reaction if she had not.

Darcy couldn’t help but take note at this sudden change in him. She wondered whether she really had this much dominance over him when she was the one immobile and practically panting for him to touch her. It seemed that the mere mention of his name had suddenly given her a power she hadn’t really known she possessed.

 _Interesting…_ That was a theory in definite need of a Mythbusters’ test. _Time to blow shit up._

“I’ll say it again if you touch me properly…” Darcy panted softly. She heard him release a short puff of breath, and then felt his hand move - _finally -_ to cup her breast entirely, giving it a massage, before focusing in on her nipple and giving it a gentle pinch.

_FUCK. Oh good gravy, that was Heaven with a capital H._

Darcy’s eyes snapped shut, and she vaguely heard herself give a high moan of appreciation at the direct application of his fingers. The pleasure shot straight to her core, and she lifted herself up slightly on his lap. The sudden touch caused her to arch against him, but he still managed to keep a hold on her nipple despite her movement, which meant he tugged her breast slightly as well. Her body seemed to want to get away from him and never have him stop all at once. How could she feel so overwhelmed at so little?

“Darcy?” he questioned gently. And some part of her brain realised that this was the first time he had mentioned _her_ proper name too. And oh, was it a thing of beauty. She could now see the appeal of him wanting it. To hear him use her name with his smoky timbre, and his long, curling tongue, was divine.

She realised she owed him in return.

“Oh yes, Loki, just like that,” she sighed in a rather breathy voice. He _had_ been a good boy, after all. “Keep going.” _Oh_ please _, keep going._

He gripped her harder and circled his thumb around her nipple, before jumping quickly back to her other breast and pinching her. Darcy’s moan was sudden, sharp and loud; the pleasure was so intense and surprising after so much teasing.

It was perfection, and yet she wanted _more_.

“Loki,” she keened, her body grinding down frustratingly onto the empty space between her legs, and she heard a rumble of laughter deep in his chest.

Screw him, she needed to move.

She heard him suck in a gasp as she quickly positioned herself further up his thighs, before she ground down on him so hard he let out a choked moan.

_Fuck. Yes. That was it._

The sound he made was better than anything she had ever heard - and she had some pretty damn awesome stuff on her iPod. The surprise of her action also made him grip her breast somewhat hard, but all it did was stimulate her further.

Time for her to finish this. Oh yes, she was so ready. For all her talk earlier with both Natasha and Loki, she was coming to an end ridiculously fast, especially for her, and she found she cared exactly not one whit.

Darcy looked at Loki’s long, slender, totally lickable neck, which was currently thrown back in pleasure against the back of the couch. He was remarkably responsive, and she was suddenly struck with the thought that perhaps it had been a while for him too. This seemed a little silly to her though… surely not…

She decided to give into temptation and moved her mouth to the tall column of his neck, where she swiped her tongue and nipped lightly, causing him to groan, and buck his hips right into hers.

 _Ohhhhhhh… she so was wrong -_ this _was Heaven._ Heaven was in the backseat of Tony Stark’s living room… although she was certainly willing to try in the backseat of a Cadilac too.

Loki suddenly seemed to realise that he was no longer in control of the situation, and he dragged his head back up towards her.

“That is against the rules, mortal,” he growled in a low voice.

“I don’t remember you saying anything about _me_ only using my hands,” Darcy countered.

“You will not win if you continue in this fashion.”

“What if I don’t want to win anymore?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to leave it there... *hides under the bed* XD
> 
> I have to decide whether or not I'm going to do the next scene after this one, and need some time to make sure I can write from Loki's perspective, LOL. I'll post the last part of this scene soon, but it might be a bit before the next scene is up. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think :) Your comments definitely make me write faster!!


	5. La Petite Mort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip: You might want to just go back to the last chapter and reread for the full effect ;)

He seemed to have no response to this. Their heavy breathing filled the silence for a moment; Darcy moved her hand from where it still sat obediently on his shoulder, to rebelliously take grip at the side of his neck. She tilted her head and lapped at his sternocleidomastoid tendon, and ran her tongue along it. She ended by biting him lightly just behind his strong jaw, which caused him to make her most favourite sound again.

So enamoured with his neck was Darcy, she failed to remember that Loki had devious plans of his own. Still sticking to his own rules, he kept his left hand on her knee, but deftly manoeuvred his right around, and dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her trousers before touching her exactly where he _should_ have been touching her about five minutes ago.

“Oh,” she whimpered in surprise and delight as he ran his fingers down her slick heat. She had never felt so ready for anything in her life, she was practically dripping onto him. Darcy unconsciously moved her hips against him and they found his hand trapped between them, to which they both groaned.

“Fuck, Loki…” she murmured into his shoulder. “You feel so good.”

Not to be outdone, Loki released a ragged breath and then plunged two fingers deep inside her. She bit down on the leather encompassing his broad muscles and used it as a silencer as she cried out against him. The mixture of the touch of his long fingers, the sound of his breathing, the taste of the leather and the sheer _scent_ of him sent her immediately into sensory overdrive.

After she took a moment to adjust to his intrusion, she rocked hard against him, causing her to moan quietly into his shoulder. He took the hint and surged his fingers forward too, pumping slowly in and out of her.

Darcy grabbed the side and back of his head with both hands and brought her mouth to his ear, which she nipped the shell of while her fingers tangled into his hair. Her breasts now scraping deliciously against his front, she grabbed a handful of his inky locks, and pulled his head back against the couch. A groan reverberated through his chest into her own body and she gasped against his ear at the vibrations.

“Oh, God, _Loki_ …” she sobbed as he took this opportunity to circle his thumb around her neglected clit.

She almost came then and there, but just managed to hold on; she didn’t quite want this to end yet. Her grip on his hair must be painful, but he showed no discomfort as she continued to ride his hand, and subsequently him, becoming faster and rougher with every stroke.

Darcy didn’t manage to last much longer, however, as he suddenly curled his fingers, making her involuntarily spasm around him. His thumb applied - _oh FUCK -_ just the right amount of pressure-

“Come, Darcy.”

\- and she was gone.

She screamed her approval, even though it was rather incoherent, into his silky hair as she felt herself clench around his elegant fingers. Her vision blurred, despite her glasses as he continued to pump into her, drawing her climax out for as long as her body would allow - which was apparently a lot longer than she knew she was capable. Hell, this whole encounter had proved her staggeringly wrong about her own body, and yet in the moment she found it extremely difficult to care.

Darcy’s body was still pulsing with aftershocks, but she managed to bring her head back far enough to briefly look at Loki’s face. He was still panting heavily, his head trapped against the couch as her hands held his skull there. The expression on his face was rather surprising. Where she thought he’d be smug from his win, she found only a small smile playing about his lips. She leant forward and pressed her lips just to the right of his mouth - for some reason engaging him in a passionate lip-lock seemed like a dangerous path for her heart to go down - and kissed him gently.

Despite the utter relaxation and calm she felt throughout her body, Darcy was able to lean back on his lap, this time letting go of his hair and reaching for his knees, using them to rest her weight upon. She suddenly felt empty as she felt his hand gently leave her, but she could still feel his hardness pressing against her inner thigh. She chanced a look down and swallowed at the sight of his, seemingly quite affected, self, and in the process noticed his fingers - still slick with her arousal - be brought up to his lips. He made sure she held his gaze before he took them into his mouth. She could see his tongue briefly wrapping around each digit, making sure to take all of her in.

 _Well fuck_. Didn’t the goalposts for Most Erotic Thing Ever just keep moving.

“You taste _delicious_ , Darcy,” he added, just to move them even further. “I cannot wait to sample you properly.”

She was about to ask about whether she could help him to his own release, when she registered what he had said. Oh yeah. There was that. _Oh shit, there was_ that _._

“Right…” she managed to croak out. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, um, about that…”

“Yes?” he looked at her expectantly. Darcy wondered for a moment what he thought he would hear. For her to back out? Not this Gryffindor.

“After this, I’m not sure I’ll survive that.”

He chuckled appreciatively, the shit-eating grin, that oh fuck, she actually found a little endearing now, returned to his face. “You will live. You may pass out,” Loki added darkly, “but you shall live. I’ve not lost a mortal yet, and I’m not about to start now.”

After that comment, Darcy decided she wanted to unnerve him and so moved one of her hands between them to grasp him through his leather trousers. She was rewarded with a gasp, and an immediate cessation of his grin. _That_ was satisfying. She really did have some power over him.

“Is this something you’d like help with?” It was her turn to hover her lips above his. Loki flicked his eyes down to her mouth momentarily before looking back at her.

“Uh-” he started. _Holy shit, did he stutter?_ “Uh- no…”

She tilted her head, confused. “Really?”

“Our wager was for your release only,” he murmured. Unfortunately, he had seemed to recover from his initial shock at her touch.

“I really don’t mind…” Darcy smiled as she stroked him slowly.

A hiss escaped his lips, and for a moment she thought she had him, but then his own, still slightly damp hand, gripped hers and lifted it back to rest on her leg.

“Some other time.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

Well that was disappointing. She was supposed to leave him hard and wanting after she had just been admiring his own handiwork? That was not at all fair to either of them. She wanted to watch his face contort as he came apart in her hands… she could picture his expression now, eyes clenched shut, mouth open, jaw jutting as he groaned-

“When do you wish to embark upon our next endeavour, Darcy?” he enquired softly. _That_ brought her back from her daydream. Her eyes snapped into focus as she looked at him.

“Uhm.” She took a moment to consider exactly how long she could wait without seeming too keen. _Right now_ was her preferred time, but apparently that wasn’t on the cards. “Tomorrow night?”

“Certainly,” he smiled in response.

She felt her face heat at the idea of what tomorrow would entail, when suddenly a thought struck her.

“Oh shit, J.A.R.V.I.S!” Loki raised his eyebrows at her. “He totally just recorded all that…” she trailed off weakly. How had she not considered that pervert Tony Stark in all this? He was going to see this! He was going to _show it to people_. To Thor and Jane! _Oh no_ …

“He did not,” Loki replied simply.

She raised her head from where it was currently situated behind her hands as she hid from him in shame. “He didn’t?”

Loki smiled. “No. I cast an illusion on the room before we started. He recorded us arguing over how awful the movie we were watching was. Naturally, I won.”

Darcy looked over her shoulder at the movie that was entering its own climax. It really _was_ bad. She felt a huge sense of relief wash over her and on instinct she reached behind her and refastened her bra.

“Thanks, Lokes,” Darcy said without thought after the girls were secure, and patted him on the shoulder absently. That was a weight off her mind.

She glanced at their still linked legs and in-so doing failed to see his smile falter at the mention of his formerly renounced nickname.

“So um, I should probably go to bed now. Suddenly I feel all relaxed and satisfied.” She smiled, and looked up to see Loki’s expression was strangely blank. _Huh._ That was weird. He usually lapped up praise. “Er- would you mind moving your freakishly long legs a bit so I can clamber off?”

His mouth formed into a tight line as he brought his legs back together and lowered his knees so she could - still not really gracefully despite the help - move off him. She got to her feet on slightly shaky knees, and looked down at him on the couch. His lack of comment threw her a little off-kilter.

“So, um, I’ll see you tomorrow? My room?” Why did she get the feeling this suddenly got awkward without her realising it?

“Of course,” Loki replied and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. He gave her a wide grin, which did not seem to meet his eyes.

_Definitely awkward._

With nothing much else to say, and whatever the tension was that had suddenly filled the room bearing down on her, Darcy turned slowly and went to the door. She paused on the threshold, her hand on the frame and looked back toward the couch. The light from the television was still throwing Loki’s face into sharp relief, and just as she was about to say something, she saw him trail his hand across his forehead.

He looked… what exactly? She couldn’t put her finger on it. But he sure as shit didn’t look relaxed or satisfied.

_What did she say?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW. It's posted :D I hope you enjoyed this section! The plan is to switch to Loki's perspective for the next part, but this might take me a bit, sorry. We're through what I had already written, so it might be a week or so before I have the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! I am actually addicted to them now :D
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I hope it lived up to the previous set-up!


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